


Underworld Housekeeping 101

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [28]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Aunt-Niece Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Butlers, Crimes & Criminals, Established Relationship, Housekeepers, M/M, Murder Husbands, Other, POV Outsider, Psychopaths In Love, housekeeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Why do you call her Cat instead of Selina?” Sveta asked, peering past [Edward's] shoulder.  “Isn't that rude?”“Not since her latest term of endearment for me is Green Dad, no,” Edward explained with a startling depth of affection that didn't mask well as disdain.  “Aha!” he exclaimed, finally retrieving an ancient Game Boy.  “Oswald is on a business call,” he said, apropos of nothing, and left.“You legit work for a couple of man-children,” Sveta informed her aunt, whistling between her teeth.[Falls in series sequence; if you read this as a stand-alone, all you need to know is that Olga's niece moved to Gotham.]





	Underworld Housekeeping 101

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raven_aorla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/gifts).



Sveta shivered against the blast of cold air that awaited her and Olga on the opposite side of the spare bedroom's door. She zipped her hoodie while Olga cursed a blue streak and shut the open window.

“If you think you hear an intruder,” explained her aunt, “do not shoot first. It is probably Miss Kyle.”

“Sounds like how we used to deal with the stray cat that kept coming around,” said Sveta, knowingly.

“Selina is often called Cat for this reason,” Olga agreed noncommittally, tidying a handful of gentlemen's grooming products on the dressing table. “It is what Edward and her girlfriends call her.”

“Girlfriends as in friends, or girlfriends as in _girlfriends_?” Sveta asked, studying the room's unusually-curated selection of framed art. “The redhead and the dark-haired one who live with her?”

“ _Da_ ,” agreed her aunt, critically smoothing the shimmering green arm of a suit jacket that protruded from the wardrobe. “I do not ask questions about who is what. Maybe they are everything.”

Sveta nodded, deciding that to accept a muddled answer was the better part of valor. “Does Nygma—”

“Sleep here?” asked Edward, brightly, from the doorway, causing Sveta to jump. “Not that often, really.”

“I have snuck up on him too many times in the lab,” Olga explained, closing the wardrobe. “ _Mr._ Nygma.”

“I hope she's given you the low-down,” said Edward, distractedly, bending to open the top drawer of the nightstand. “That's the window Cat likes to climb through despite the fact that she's allowed to come in the front door,” he went on, rifling through contents with an adamant frown.

“Why do you call her Cat instead of Selina?” Sveta asked, peering past his shoulder. “Isn't that rude?”

“Not since her latest term of endearment for me is Green Dad, no,” Edward explained with a startling depth of affection that didn't mask well as disdain. “Aha!” he exclaimed, finally retrieving an ancient Game Boy. “Oswald is on a business call,” he said, apropos of nothing, and left.

“You legit work for a couple of man-children,” Sveta informed her aunt, whistling between her teeth.

“Wealthy, dangerous children,” Olga agreed, dusting her hands on her apron. “But _we_ are also fierce.”

“Damn right,” Sveta agreed, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Where to next? Show me the kitchen?”

“I will take you there, and then I show you Edward's downstairs mess,” Olga sighed, leading the way.

The kitchen was kitted out in reasonably modern fashion for such an old house. Sveta ran her fingers along the center island counter while her aunt wordlessly showed off the refrigerator's configuration.

“I advise you to take Clorox wipes to that before you do things,” said Olga, gravely. “As precaution.”

Sveta considered the implication of her aunt's tone for several seconds before withdrawing her hand.

“Wait, you’re serious?” she demanded, in horrified fascination. “You caught them fucking in here?”

Olga, seemingly unimpressed with Sveta's crass vocabulary, nodded in confirmation. “[Some kind of relations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10969905), _da_ ,” she said dispassionately. “At New Year's. I forget my phone and come back to the house. Edward has no discipline. Oswald is terrible with making rules. You do the numbers.”

“Math, Auntie, jeez,” Sveta sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s math. Didn't somebody get you English lessons?” She winked. “I could teach you some Zuni. I bet nobody else here speaks it.”

“Do you still speak Russian, _lastochka_?” Olga asked. “From studying during high school?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sveta said. “Daddy didn't teach me shit, but you and my teachers were great.”

“Then we have many languages between us,” Olga replied, nodding at the doorway. “And secrets.”

Sveta followed her aunt out of the kitchen and past the dining table, struck at the sight of that grand, ornate chair with no one in it. The man himself was over in the drawing room, shouting into his phone.

“Pretend that I'm showing you what's in these,” said Olga, in Russian, pulling the table drawers open.

Sveta nodded, tilting her chin down as Olga placed a handgun in her palm, gaze askance. She had a decent sidelong view of their employers cuddled on the sofa and could hear Nygma's video game.

“I don’t _care_ who you have to kill,” insisted Penguin, ruffling Nygma’s hair with such doting familiarity that the gesture was jarring against the backdrop of his words. “Just make it happen!”

Nygma hummed and frowned at the screen of his Game Boy, leaning against Penguin’s shoulder.

“You’re distracting me,” he pouted as his husband pointedly hung up.

Sveta blinked, studying the weapon, reviewing the facts at her disposal. This was a perfectly normal household in almost every respect, unless you took into account it was occupied by a couple of power-hungry, self-centered white guys. Maybe _especially_ because of that.

“Lots of people die,” she said, turning to her aunt. “More than just shitty, abusive addict boyfriends?”

Olga shrugged. “Most of them are that kind, too. Shitty boyfriends, shitty girlfriends, shitty partners.” She shrugged again, considering the deadly, doting couple on the sofa. “I have come to care for them, but before? Maybe I would have said they are no different. But Oswald keeps order in the city, better than police. He will pay you the same as me, treat you like a queen,” she said, taking the gun away from Sveta, pointing it toward the drawing room. “And if he does not?” She mimed a shot, her demeanor serious.

 _Screw it_ , Sveta thought, watching as Penguin took away Nygma’s game and kissed him back against the throw pillows with shocking tenderness.

“They’re disgustingly sweet when they’re not murdering anybody,” she said, taking back the gun. “How far along are renovations on the Iceberg, and when do I put my training from the Zsasz crew to use?”


End file.
